


Determined. Ish.

by quiet__tiger



Category: Psych
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Bi-Curiosity, Coda, Episode: s03e11 Lassie Did a Bad Bad Thing, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 05:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10633683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Lassiter is determined to share his feelings with Spencer. Mostly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sister-fic to [Possessive Much?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10633644).
> 
> Takes place after "Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing."
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal Feb. 1st, 2009.

Being accused of murder and facing down yet another crazy guy with a weapon had Lassiter thinking. Thinking about past mistakes, regrets, lapses of judgment.

And also about facing who he was. What was out there that he might be able to have if only he let himself take it.

Hell, if Drimmer could pick up on his attraction to Spencer after spending hardly any time with them at all, surely the rest of the station knew about it. Knew the way Shawn intrigued him, amused him, annoyed the shit out of him in a flirtatious way.

And damn him to hell if he didn’t find the “psychic’s” smile endearing, when it was directed at him and honest and reached his eyes.

It was foolish, but he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the hours trying to figure him out, trying to understand where he was coming from. Actually, the more time Lassiter spent with Henry, the less he had to think about how Shawn came to be the manchild he was today.

He did, however, think of even more questions that needed answering.  
Right now, however, what he was trying to do was answer, “What the hell am I doing here?”

He was at the Psych office—and he couldn’t believe Gus let Spencer actually name the office that—to talk to Shawn. Thank him for his help. His faith in him. Pride was his greatest sin, but he could admit Spencer came through for him and hadn’t let him down, albeit backwards in the sense that Lassiter still had to shoot someone.  
But the case was solved, and tonight Lassiter could sleep in his own bed instead of a holding cell.

And if he did lose his nerve, well, he could at least give Shawn the pineapple he’d bought. He liked the sweet fruit himself, but he knew Spencer practically had an IV line for the juice and smoothies. It would be a token of his appreciation. Maybe Spencer would even offer to share it, giving Lassiter a reason to hang around longer, talk to the younger man, get inside his head a little more without work being in the way.

A small, terrified part of him even hoped that rather than his head, he’d get into Spencer’s pants. The dreams he’d been having lately had given him many ideas while robbing him of solid sleep. He couldn’t say he minded. At least, not right now with thoughts of that smart mouth on him.

He was too old for a sexual identity crisis, at least, for him; he knew such a thing could happen to other people. But the childish psychic—and how much was really a sixth sense was more and more in question each day—drew him in against his will. It was just time to give in to it and see what Spencer thought. Lassiter wasn’t even afraid; he just wanted to get an idea of what was out there for him.

Walking up to the door, Lassiter realized that he was just lying to himself. He was terrified. It had been a long time since he’d been rejected if he didn’t count his separation. He knew nothing about Spencer’s preferences except he particularly enjoyed annoying him. But strip away a lot of that annoyance and Spencer was simply flirting with him. He had to be. He did it with women, too, particularly O’Hara, but Lassiter knew he was the focus of most of it. Spencer had even said he was sexy once or twice. Straight men don’t tell other straight men they’re sexy. Not in his experience.

Pineapple raised to his chest in defense, Lassiter took a deep breath and prepared to knock on the door. He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that he knew Spencer was here; his motorcycle was parked outside, and he couldn’t see Guster’s car. This also felt like less of an invasion than if he went to Spencer’s apartment. And honestly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see how he lived. Too much too soon; at least, the way he envisioned Spencer’s place.

Another deep breath and seconds from knocking on the door, and there was a thump from inside. Pineapple dropped on the ground, Lassiter had his gun drawn and was inching towards the window almost before he realized what he was doing. If there’d been any other sign of distress he’d have kicked in the door, but he didn’t know what he’d be barging into.

When he finally reached the window and was able to peek inside, he almost dropped his gun. Inside, he could see Spencer and Guster engaged in a searing kiss, Guster’s hands up under Spencer’s shirt, Spencer’s hands holding Guster’s head in place. Guster pushed Shawn against the wall next to the window, creating another thump. The kiss ended and both men were smiling, happy.

Lassiter’s chest tightened and emotion rolled through him. What emotion, he wasn’t sure. Some of it was embarrassment, some shame. Maybe regret. And just a tiny bit of relief—there would be no sexual identity crisis.

Not now, not ever.

But he’d been really curious, and now he was disappointed. However, Spencer and Guster looked happy. Guster even happier when Spencer dropped to his knees and unbuckled his belt.

Finally realizing he was peeping and fully visible from the street, Lassiter sheathed his gun and picked up his pineapple. He couldn’t eat it now, and the fruit would always remind him of Spencer, but he couldn’t leave it here. They’d know someone was there.

Better to leave, and not look back, and tomorrow, or whenever Spencer popped into the station, he’d ignore him, pretend nothing happened, pretend he hadn’t _felt_ something. He could repress and deny; he’d done it before. 

This would just be harder.


End file.
